


Nice To Meet You (I think)

by military_bluebells



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Boys In Love, Coming Out, Established Relationship, Fluff, Jewish Characters, M/M, Meeting the Parents, Weddings, and, because Brad can't do one thing at a time, confronting the ex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:20:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25714963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/military_bluebells/pseuds/military_bluebells
Summary: “I’d love to be your prom date Bradley, we can wear matching colours, how's fuchsia?” Brad imagined it for a brief second, and absurdly he thought Ray wouldn’t look awful – no more so than usual – in a violent shade of pink.“While I would love to indulge your teenage prom fantasies,” Ray wiggled his eyebrow and Brad felt his lips twitch, “it is a family friend’s wedding and my mother would castrate me without hesitation if I upstaged it.”
Relationships: Brad Colbert/Ray Person
Comments: 14
Kudos: 87





	Nice To Meet You (I think)

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting patiently in my docs for at least three months and I finally got the inspiration to finish it in the past three days, so enjoy!

“You wan’ me ‘o wha’ now?” Ray asked through a mouthful of pasta. Brad grimaced a little - a mistake because Ray chewed his food with more exaggeration, gifting him an unnecessary look into his mouth. 

“I need someone to fill my plus one and since Poke and Eric are busy and Walt is in Virginia attempting to create more, smaller, Hassers, you are my last choice with somewhat appropriate house training.” It was a lie. He hadn’t asked Poke, Eric or Walt but it wouldn’t do Brad any good to bolster Ray’s already large ego by telling him he was his first choice. 

“Aw,” Ray said, his mouth still caked in yellow, mashed pasta. If Brad was a lesser man, he would've felt sick, “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” 

Brad tapped his fingers against the table. If Ray declined, he’d have to e-mail Poke or Eric and hope they were free. He clenched his teeth: if neither of them were free, he would have to resort to extreme measures- 

“I’d love to be your prom date Bradley, we can wear matching colours, how's fuchsia?” Brad imagined it for a brief second, and absurdly he thought Ray wouldn’t look awful – no more so than usual – in a violent shade of pink. 

“While I would love to indulge your teenage prom fantasies,” Ray wiggled his eyebrow and Brad felt his lips twitch, “it is a family friend’s wedding and my mother would castrate me without hesitation if I upstaged it.” 

“She already had you castrated.” Ray said, his mouth finally empty. 

Brad smirked, “I didn’t hear you complaining.” 

“No, of course not, I love your big Jewish cock, but wouldn’t bringing your sordid gay lover be upstaging?” Ray rose both eyebrow and pulled his mouth down. Brad snorted, reaching across the table to wipe the smudge of cheese sauce from the corner of Ray’s mouth. 

“I doubt my parent’s will care so long as the seat next to me is filled.” 

Ray frowned, “So I’m just a piece of meat to you, a trophy to be paraded around.” 

“Ray, even if you were a trophy, you would be a small, pathetic, plastic one given to a child who came last as a way of shutting their parent’s up.” 

“Speaking from experience Brad.” Ray quipped. 

Brad grinned, “No, I was too busy _winning_ my competitions.” 

Ray mirrored his grin, “Big, gold trophies for one of the most objectively gay sports. I bet it took a lot of ‘pumping’ and ‘waxing your board’.” Ray jacked his hand in the air as if he wasn’t clear enough. 

Brad relented and collected their dishes, putting them in the sink and starting the water. “Are you going to come?” Brad asked, keeping his eyes on the sink as it filled. 

“Of course.” Ray said. Brad’s shoulder slumped without his permission and then he had Ray plastering himself to his back, warm callous hands rubbing under his shirt. “I’d love to meet Papa and Mama Colbert. You know at this point; most people believe you were made in a test tube and raised by wild recon marines.” 

Brad snorted: it sounded about right for Bravo to believe wildly implausible theories. He was sure a lot of them still believed that Rudy was raised in an isolated monastery by Buddhist ninjas and Ray had as much between his ears as the assholes in Alpha. He had fuelled the rumours about his family in any case: he preferred them not to send letters in addition to his sister’s and that no one came to meet him when he landed stateside. While Ray would drop in on his mother and grandmother, Brad preferred to plan when he visited his family or when they visited him. The exception was his sister, who dropped in whenever she pleased. 

He often thought she and Ray would get along. 

“So, what am I going to be when I meet your parents?” Ray said, resting his head against Brad’s shoulder blade. 

Brad gripped the plate in his hands a little tighter, before saying dryly, “A human, instead of whatever farm animal hybrid you actually are.” 

Ray smacked a hand against Brad’s abs, leaving them stinging a little, “I’m serious homes, am I old pal Ray or ‘hi this is the guy I’m committing sodomy with’.” Brad twitched, and Ray sighed into his shoulder, “I don’t care homes, I just want to know how to play it, this isn’t some fucking guilt trip alright.” 

Brad took a breath, swiping the dish cloth over the back of Ray’s plate. It was still a little unnerving, even now, how Ray could do that. Jess had never been able to. 

“I don’t know.” Brad said, at length. Ray’s thumb rubbed circles into his hipbone, his forehead burning against Brad's shoulder. 

“Okay.” Ray said quietly, “Just give me the word when you do.” 

Brad nodded - too stiffly - and Ray moved away. Brad shot his arm out to catch Ray’s elbow, dragging him back into his chest. He pressed his lips to Ray’s temple. Ray pouted, “Homes, that’s isn't a real fucking kiss.” 

Brad shrugged, turning back to the dishes, “If you help, I might give you one.” 

Ray huffed, “This is coercion. You’re a bad, bad man Mr Colbert,” but picked up a tea towel and started drying the mugs on the side. 

* * *

  


Brad mulled the question over in his head in the following days. Imagined introducing Ray to his parent, calling him his partner, his RTO, a friend from Bravo. Each time his parent’s reactions changed, from easy acceptance to cold indifference to rage. He thought about in the shower, doing the dishes, doing PT. Ray had noticed but for once he left the issue well alone, giving him support from afar. Hands scrubbing soap over his back, a chin resting against his shoulder by the sink, an elbow bumping against his as they ran. 

He lay in bed and run through every way he could explain what Ray was to him, from the obvious to the subtle. He thought about his sister and couldn’t imagine neither cold indifference nor rage on her face. She was always smiling, always hugging Ray and telling him he was a saint for putting up with her brother. 

“I invited Emma for dinner.” Brad said as Ray bit into his toast. Ray coughed, hacking up a piece of wet, jelly laden toast back onto his plate. 

“Jesus, warn a guy!” Ray said, coughing even as he swallowed some milk. 

Brad waited until the glass was back on the table before continuing, “I was going to tell her.” 

Ray paused and looked up slowly, tilting his head to the right. Brad waited: if Ray was taking the time to look at Brad before he responded, he must be thinking. 

“Okay,” was all he said, “what shall I make, since you can’t cook for shit.” 

“I can cook.” Brad protested. 

Ray snorted, taking another large bite of toast, “Boring shit, if your sister’s coming, it’s gotta taste a little better than wet cardboard.” 

Brad narrowed his eyes and stood deliberately. Ray eyed him as he stepped around the table and he shuffled a little in his seat, looking up as much as he could to meet Brad’s eyes. Ray’s eyes widened - realisation dawning - but not before Brad had him in a headlock and scrubbed his knuckles against Ray’s scalp. 

“Shit!” Ray yelped, kicking his foot off the island. Brad tried to readjust his centre of balance, but Ray countered it, sending them straight to the floor. There was a brief kicking match – Brad trying to pin Ray’s legs down and Ray squirming like an eel to stop him – before Ray broke Brad’s hold by twisting his wrist. Brad laughed as Ray shoved his arm back and sat up on his stomach. Ray glared at him, moving to get up. Brad caught Ray by the armpits and raked his nails down the side of his stomach, under the t-shirt Ray'd stole to sleep in. 

Ray yelped, “Motherfucker, that’s dirty Colbert -ha- fucking dirty as shit.” Brad wrestled Ray back to the floor, grinning as Ray hiccupped with laughter. He stopped tickling him and Ray panted on his back, shirt rucked up and cheeks ruddy. “Alright, alright, your cooking isn’t god awful but seriously homes, what are we having?” 

Brad shrugged, fixing a couple of pieces of Ray’s hair, almost too long for the regs, “My sister likes lasagne, but don’t put any cheese in it.” 

“Lasagne without cheese, got it,” Ray said, sitting up and cupping Brad’s jaw. He let himself be dragged into a kiss, relaxing into Ray’s hands. A hand dragged through his hair and he sighed, cupping Ray’s hip. Ray’s hand on his neck suddenly jerked him down and knuckles scrapped against his head for a brief second before Ray slipped out of his arm. 

Brad grinned, taking the challenge, chasing after the grey blur towards the bedroom. 

* * *

  


Ray watched Brad as he did another lap around their living room, moving the tissue box from the sideboard back onto the coffee table, where it'd been two minutes ago. 

“Brad, you’re pacing.” Ray said, sitting on the counter-top. 

“I’m trying to make sure none of your whiskey tango, incest filled, porn stash is anywhere my sister will find it when she undoubtedly starts sticking her nose in places it shouldn’t be.” Brad said curtly. 

Ray rolled his eyes, “You know it’s funny, that you think I've got a porn stash when I spent most of my time having sex with you. We talk about your lack of sexual confidence Brad, it’s no trouble.” 

“Don’t psycho-analyse me Ray.” 

Ray snorted, “Homes, I don’t need to analyse shit, you’re practically screaming it. Look, we don’t have to tell her if you’re not comfortable. I know you have all these problems from she-who-shall-not-be-named – and you know the fact that this is technically illegal, even if most people don’t give a shit – but you don’t have to push through them like hiking with a broken ankle, you’re allowed to take things granny ass slow homes.” 

Brad paused between the couch and the armchair. Ray softened his gaze as Brad’s shoulders tensed under his t-shirt. Ray wasn’t fooled for a second by his carefully controlled expression, but he let it go, “I’ll follow your lead homes.” He said, turning back to the salad he was making. If Brad hadn’t been prowling like a caged tiger, he probably would've joked that Ray'd never seen a salad in his life. He imagined the tone and smirked to himself. 

There was a knock on the door not long after and Ray waved his hand towards it when Brad froze. His jaw worked for a second before he strode over to it. 

“Brad!” a blonde, petite girl called, practically jumping into Brad’s arms. Ray watched him briefly hug Emma back. She didn’t seem fazed, backing away to grin at him. Ray looked between the two of them, at their matching blonde hair and similar profile. Adoption or not, they looked like siblings. 

“So, what’s the grand occasion, you don’t usually invite people over without at least two weeks’ notice.” Ray snorted and Emma turned, her face twisting with confusion before brightening worryingly, “You’re Ray right?” 

“Yeah. Should I be worried Brad, since you’ve obviously been talking about me behind my back?” Ray said, preening a little. 

“It’s unavoidable when you’re practically attached to me like a leech.” Brad shot back, his shoulders relaxing. Good. His sister gave him a look, but Ray just laughed, waggling his eyebrows. Brad snorted, taking Emma’s coat, OCD freak. Emma wondered over to the table, looking around. 

“So, is he as bad to life with as I imagine?” 

Ray laughed, “He’s way too opinionated on fruit juice and cleaning products, and he keeps moving my shit then complains at me when we’re late, but other than that, nah I’ve had worse. This one guy I bunked with in my first year, had this weird collection of erotic books that he would put in the living room, right where everyone could see them.” 

Emma laughed, sweeping a piece of hair behind her ear. Ray glanced over to where Brad was standing a little away, smiling softly 

“You know, you’re terrible at describing people Brad,” Emma said over her shoulder when she noticed, “Ray’s much more charming than you said.” Ray grinned at him, bringing the lasagne over to the table. 

“I’ve been house training him.” Brad commented as he sat down. Emma rolled her eyes. Ray put the tray in the middle and took the seat next to Brad, since Emma was sitting where he usually went. Brad cut it up and served, his sister saying a short grace. 

“So, what is this really about Brad, and don’t say nothing.” Emma said, after they’d eaten for a while. Ray pressed his knee gently against Brad’s thigh. Brad glanced across at him before taking a pointed sip from his water. His sister gaze became concerned and she put her fork down, “Brad?” 

Ray waited, keeping his eyes off Brad. There was a short silence before Brad said bluntly, “I’m dating Ray.” 

Ray coughed, “Tactful, homes.” 

Brad glanced at him, “There’s no use dragging it out.” 

“You’re dating Ray?” Emma repeated. Brad stiffened next to him, but Emma seemed to realise, and her eyes widened, “No, no Brad, it’s fine, I just want to make sure I’m understanding this right.” 

“Yes we're dating. We live together, Brad takes me out for meals, he fucks me regularly, and every once in while I fuck him.” Ray said just as bluntly, since that seemed to be how they were doing this. 

Brad breathed out pointedly and said sarcastically, “Thank you Ray, for that unneeded and overtly crass information.” 

Ray put his hands up, “Hey, I thought we were going blunt but now we’re not, make up your mind homes.” 

“Well, you fight like an old couple.” They looked back at Emma, who was grinned ear to ear, her head resting on folded hands like she was watching a funny show. Ray shared a look with Brad, before Brad said, hesitantly, 

“I know this isn’t-” 

“It’s _fine_. I’m really happy for you. I know what _they_ did to you, and the fact you’re giving it another go, I’m so happy for you Brad.” Emma said, interrupting him. Ray blinked and suddenly Brad had his arms full, Emma’s happy laughter ringing out. She turned to him and pulled him into a hug too. Ray froze and stared over her shoulder at Brad. The bastard just laughed. Emma pulled back, regarding Ray with a bright look, “You know, every time I see him he has a new story about you to make me laugh, and I know he isn’t the best at telling people how he feels, but I think you don’t need him to and that's far better than anyone else.” 

“Er thanks.” Ray said, tongue tied. 

Emma’s eyes skipped between the two of them every couple of second until she squealed. Brad winced, but Ray laughed. 

“Sorry, sorry, it’s just… I never thought this would happen.” Emma gasped, “Are you bring him to Michelle’s wedding? Oh tell me you are, Mom and Dad would love to meet Ray.” 

Brad winced again, “I don’t think-“ 

Emma came closer, “I’m not saying they won’t bat an eyelid, but you know Mom, Ray would be able to charm her in minutes, seconds if he cooks,” Emma winked and Ray grinned, 

“See homes, I told you.” 

“Shut up Ray.” 

Emma pressed on, “so don’t worry about them,” She turned to him, “that is if this’s serious.” 

Ray looked at Brad and he knew his eyes were going all soft and gooey. “It is.” He said softly, revelling in way Brad looked him. _I love you_ , but not in words. Not that Ray gave a fuck about that shit. Emma was grinning, Ray could feel it, but he held Brad’s gaze. 

“Then it’ll be fine, you have nothing to be worried about.” 

* * *

  


“Stop fiddling with it.” Ray said over his shoulder as he watched Brad move his ribbon rack for the fifth time. He had to admit, Brad in his blue dress was a sight to see: the dark blue coat making his shoulder look even broader, the long lines of his pants making him seem even taller, each of the buttons and his sergeants plate perfectly shined. The only thing missing was the saber, but it’d be a little out of place at a wedding. In comparison, Ray looked even smaller and younger, lost under the uniform. He sighed and fixed his hair, which Brad had insisted he got cut. Ray thought the close cut made him look stupid, but he’d let Brad do it anyway, because well, the Iceman was cracking. 

He’d told his parent he was bringing a plus-one, and in return his mother had told him Jess and Jamie would be at the wedding. Predictably, Brad'd acted like it didn’t bother him, even as he tensed more and more each day; starting to micromanage everything, including Ray. Even now, looking both like something out of a military wives pin up, and the perfect face of the Marine Corps, Brad still wasn’t happy. But Ray let him be, knowing that by now nothing short of getting this over with would settle him. So, he finished trying – and failing – to sort his hair out and picked up his cover. 

“When’s your sister due again?” he asked, grabbing his dress shoes, perfectly polished. Ray'd been worried Brad'd start polishing each piece of cutlery, because that was a level they shouldn’t reach. 

“Now, but she’s usually late.” 

Ray nodded, sitting on the couch to put his shoes on. While not the most comfortable things in the world, they weren’t as bad as the shoes he’d worn in the fifth grade, a size too small and littered with small holes that let the mud in. Brad hated them, going so far as to moan when they had to wear them, but Ray didn’t take much out of his opinion, since Brad would live in flip-flops if given the choice. Fucking Californians. 

There was a knock on the door just as Ray finished tying his laces. He grabbed their keys and Brad’s cover, as Brad opened the door for his sister. They were sharing a lift because Emma insisted. Ray'd agreed, because Brad wouldn’t be able to drive with how tense he was and Ray, well, yeah. He took one last look in the bathroom mirror, at a guy he only sort of recognised, and went to join them. 

Emma beamed when she saw him, “You look _very_ handsome, Ray.” 

“Thanks, but I’m boning your brother.” 

Brad sighed but Emma laughed, “Hey, I can appreciate a nice-looking man, even if he’s doing things with my brother I’d rather not know about.” She looked amazing in a long, violet strapless dress, and her hair in one of those over-complicated updos that all the girls were doing. She looked even more like Brad’s sister. 

“We’re going to be late.” Brad said curtly, striding out the door. Ray met Emma’s raised eyebrow with an eyeroll. 

“The stick up his ass is stiffer than usual.” He said, closing and locking the front door. Emma hummed, looking over to Brad, who was standing rim rod straight by his car. 

“It’s about Jess and Jamie, isn’t it?” 

Ray nodded, “He was already stressed about the whole meet-the-parents-coming-out thing and I think it spooked him. I said we didn’t have to do this today if he didn’t want to.” 

Emma gave him a look, and apparently it was a Colbert look, not a Brad look, “He can’t let them dictate his life forever. God, I want to strangle them more every day.” Ray rose an eyebrow, offering his hand out as Emma went to go down the few steps. She took it, hitching her dress up, showing off the white heels she had on. They reminded Ray of a pair his mom had, flapper shoes she called them. Emma rolled her eyes, “Just because he insists on still being friend with them after what they did, doesn’t mean I have to be.” 

“It’s a load of bullshit, right?” Ray said as Emma finished going down the last step. 

“Totally, I’ve been trying to convince Brad of this for years.” 

Ray grinned, “You know, you’re so much cooler than Brad.” 

Emma laughed and hooked her arm through Ray’s. In another world, they might've been the couple, but Ray liked to think that in every world where Brad Colbert existed, the Ray Person would always fall head over heels for him. God, they weren’t even at the wedding yet and he was getting all sappy. 

Brad was beginning to pace by the car. Ray sighed internally; it was going to be a long fucking day.

* * *

  


Ray and Emma spent most of the car journey talking about some people called Rachel and Ross. It was good that they got along: if she could accept Ray so freely and openly, his parents were likely to follow. However, Jess and Jamie’s attendance shouldn’t have blindsided him the way it had, and it shouldn’t be fucking with him this much. He knew both Ray and Emma had already picked up on it, which was either going to be helpful or annoying. 

He took a deep breath and stared out of the passenger window, letting their voices wash over him. He resisted the urge to loosen his dress shoes: not matter how loose he tied them, they always felt too tight. Every part of his dress blues felt wrong, his pants too short, his jacket too small. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ray pull at his collar, his hands drumming on the steering wheel. He was nervous. 

Brad tuned back into the conversation – something about a Joey and Chandler now – and cut in, “We need a strategy.” 

Emma groaned, “Brad, this isn’t a Recon mission, it’s a wedding.” 

“Everything can be a Recon mission, little Colbert.” Ray chimed before turning to Brad. “I say discretion is the word of the day. We operate as friends for the majority of the wedding, avoid the hostiles as much as possible but where it’s unavoidable, one of us act as a distraction for the other to perform a swift exfil. After the reception, we intercept the targets and deliver the information before making another swift exfil back to base.” 

Brad snorted, “Jess and Jamie aren’t hostiles Ray.” 

“They are to me.” 

“And me.” Emma added. Brad sighed and Emma took the gap as an opportunity, “I know you struggle with it Brad, but why don't you just go with the flow. Tell them when it feels right and don’t worry about Jess and Jamie, I’ll take care of them.” 

“And I’ll have your six whatever you decide.” Ray added when Emma finished. Brad nodded reluctantly but when Ray put his hand in the middle well - his palm facing up - and Brad grasped it without hesitation. 

They reached the church not long after and Ray squeezed his hand before letting it go. They got out of the car in sync, Emma following half a second later. Brad put his cover on, making sure it sat straight. Ray did the same on the opposite side of the car. It made it harder to see his eyes but Brad could read the stiff way Ray held himself and the way his hands were clenched into fists. 

“Come on,” Emma said, offering both her arms. Brad snorted as Ray grinned and they linked their arms with hers, walking through the car park towards the church. “I feel very special, having two Marines on my arms.” 

Ray laughed, putting his hand on Emma’s arm, “You’ll be the talk of the wedding.” 

Emma laughed and Brad felt the tension bleed out of him. It was only a few hours, he had Ray and Emma with him, and it was unlikely that anyone would accost him during the ceremony. It couldn't be any worse than _their_ wedding, Brad thought to himself as they neared the groups of people hanging around the front doors. The church was large and white, with a high spire and light wooden doors opened in the June heat. It was a Catholic church – he thought Michelle’s fiancé might be Catholic because Michelle definitely wasn’t – and that promised a long service. 

“That’s Catholic right?” Ray said behind Emma’s shoulders. 

“Yep.” 

“Shiitt, this is going to boring as fuck. Hey, do you think we’re all going to burst into flames as soon as we step inside?” 

Brad snorted. Emma elbowed them both, “Manners, and for your information, they’ve shortened the service to make both families happy and no we’re not going to burst into flames.” Brad was almost proud of the disapproval in those last words: he’d taught her well. 

“Really? Because you two are Jews and I’m Baptist if you ask my mom _and_ that’s not even getting into the sodomy.” Emma elbowed them again - forcefully - as they came into hearing range of the guest that were starting to flow into the church. They began to move in when most of them had gone through the doors into the church hall. Brad and Ray removed their covers as they stepped in, waiting for the column to continue moving. 

“Well, I’m not on fire yet.” Ray said cheekily. Emma elbowed him and they guided her into a pew on the bride’s side, towards the back. Emma went with it, though he knew she’d prefer to be closer to her friends at the front. Brad was glad: he preferred it at the back, better access and a better visual on the entrances and exits, far away from the organ and the mothers at the front. They ushered Emma in between them, both because if they sat together, they’d make a scene and because both of them couldn’t shake the need to protect civilians. 

The four groomsmen took their positions at the front, the groom closest to the priest. 

“What’s his name again?” he whispered into Emma’s ear. 

Emma slapped his knee, “Brad! You used to swim with Tom.” 

Brad glared at her, “I’ve met a lot of people in my long years on this earth. Also, you sound just like our mother.” Emma gasped in offence and slapped his leg again. 

“I’m not gonna have sit between you two, right?” Ray asked teasingly. 

“No.” Brad and Emma said together. Ray rolled his eyes at them and muttered something like ‘I’m glad I’m only child’. Brad opened his mouth to comment but Emma slapped his leg for a third time, so he redirected his glare back to her. She caught his eyes and nodded to the front where the organ player had sat down and was reaching for the keys. Brad sighed forcefully as the organ started up and Emma tugged him and Ray to standing. 

He turned respectfully to watch the bridal party enter the church. Two small girls in more complicated dresses than were needed for their age led the procession, throwing petals along the aisle as they went. Several people cooed and the girls preened in the attention. Brad would have rolled his eyes, but the heel of Emma’s shoe was a little too close to his toes to be accidental. Next in the party were the four bridesmaids, walking in pairs about two feet behind the flower girls. They were wearing matching dresses in a darker shade of peach than the flower girls, the bodices tight and the skirts floor-length and loose. He had to admit, the shape flattered them all. 

When they’d advance three-quarters of the way down the aisle, Michelle and her father started their walk. There were appreciative hums and coos as the bride was revealed; she did look beautiful. The first thing he noticed was the veil, that obscure her smiling face only a little. The trail was a descent length, her skirt was long and flowing and the bodice had two thin straps and a low V neckline. Not very catholic, but Emma had said them made concessions. The father of the bride, Brad did recognise from barbecues over the years. Mark was portlier than Brad remembered but the grin on his face was the same. Brad found himself nodding to the man with a small smile when they passed. 

Soon enough they were sitting down again, and the service was starting. Brad didn’t really tune into the readings, but he did recognise some scriptures. When they started a hymn, the three of them stood but he didn’t sing. His sister however, sung a verse of a wedding Zemirot that Brad only knew the tune of under her breath. He hummed the chorus and she beamed at him. 

When they sat down again, Ray leaned in to ask, “Was that Hebrew?” 

Emma nodded with a smile, “How did you know?” 

Ray shrugged and Brad rose an eyebrow as he saw a faint blush appear on Ray’s cheeks, “I’ve – uh – been learning a little.” 

Brad rose his eyebrow higher and Ray looked away. Emma was smiling much too smugly, so he tuned back into the service. Emma waved the Order of Service to draw Brad’s attention and pointed halfway down the second page to the Homily. Brad pretended to know what that meant. There are many things the Marine Corps drilled into him and one was a straight back when in dress uniform; he was thankful because he might be falling asleep with his eyes open but his back was still perfectly straight, implying he was listening intently. He looked across to Ray, who was sitting much the same, but his right leg was bouncing an inch every second. 

It reminded Brad of the car when Ray was drumming his fingers. He’s still nervous. Again, Brad can’t do anything to help, sitting on the other side of Emma and unable to switch easily. He thought back to when Ray’d dragged him to Missouri during leave to stay with his mother and grandmother, to ‘see some real America culture’. He’d been nervous: Ray was much closer to his family than most of the Marines – something they had in common – but to an extent that even Brad wasn’t. They’d been his whole world and their approval had mattered a lot to Brad, more so than Jess parent’s. 

As he thought her name, he refocused and spotted the back of her head several rows in front of him, leant on Jamie’s shoulder. She was probably reminiscing about her wedding day. He gritted his teeth as they stood for the couple to say their vows. Michelle had to pause to wipe her eyes as she promised ‘in sickness and in health’ and then they were both beaming at one another as the priest handed them their rings. He blessed them and pronounced them wed. 

Everyone clapped as they kissed – there were no whoops or catcalls or cheers like a Marine wedding – and then the newly weds were walking down the aisle arm in arm, beaming for all their worth. The bridesmaids and groomsmen follow in pre-arranged pairs and then the flowers girls, followed by a mix of the groom’s family and the bride’s. 

They waited for most people to shuffle their way out and he dodged Jess’s eyes by turning to Ray. Emma gave him a knowing look but didn’t glare around his shoulder like he knew she wanted to. Instead she too turned to Ray and asked, “So, which one of you is going to dance with me first?” 

Ray laughed, “Like you want to dance with Brad, he has two left feet.” Emma laughed and Brad rolled his eyes. Ray took the opportunity to comment further, “Why is that homes? I mean, you do parade drills better then General Mattis, but you can’t dance for shit.” 

“Surprisingly, Ray, those two skills are different, like the difference between actual dancing and the bastardised versions you do with your sister-cousins in shit-filled barns.” Brad countered dryly. 

Ray cracked a grin, and said with a thick hick accent, “Hey now, I ain’t never taken you to a proper ho-down Bradley.” 

Emma stifled a laugh before punching them both in the arm, “As funny as this is, there’s a reception full of free food to get to…” 

“Fuck yes, free food.” Ray cheered. 

Most of the guests were congregated around where the wedding photos were being taken. Emma tugged them both over to a bench where an older woman was seated. 

“ _Shalom_ Rivka,” Emma said, gracefully tucking her dress under her as she sat beside the woman. The woman’s face lit up and she cupped Emma's cheeks with thin hands. Her head was covered with a delicate looking head scarf with gold Hebrew script embroidered onto the navy fabric. A light blue shawl covered her thin shoulders and her white blouse was tucked into her matching navy skirt. 

“ _Shalom_ Emma, so good to see you.” She said. She turned to look over Emma’s shoulder to him and cried, “Oh, Brad, how you’ve grown!” 

It took Brad a second to recognise her, “ _Shalom_ Mrs Bayer.” 

“Ah, still so formal.” She said to Emma, who smiled with amusement, and then Mrs Bayer turned to Ray, “and who might you be, young man?” 

“Joshua Ray Person, ma’am, I’m a friend of Brad’s.” 

Mrs Bayer smiled brightly, “Ah, Yoshua, a good, strong Jewish name.” Ray flicked his eyes over to Brad, _help me_ , written over his face. Brad rose an eyebrow and 

Ray replied, “Thank you ma’am.” Before giving him a look. 

Mrs Bayer laughed, “Ah, formal as well, you two are a pair.” Brad could only blink at that. Mrs Bayer moved on to pat Emma’s hand, “You are in good company.” 

“Who will you be sitting with at the reception?” Emma asked. 

Mrs Bayer waved her hand, “Whoever invites me first.” 

Emma glanced over her shoulder, making puppy dog eyes at him. He shrugged and Emma took Mrs Bayer's hand in hers, “Well, we’d love for you to sit with us, if you'd like.” 

“Oh, I would love to.” 

They stayed around the bench – undisturbed – until the photos were done and everyone was returning to their cars to drive to the reception at a local hall. Ray graciously offered his arm to Mrs Bayer as she stood up from the bench. She laughed and waved her finger at him before sliding her arm around his offered elbow. They walked a leisurely pace back to Brad’s car, where Brad opened the far back door for Emma and Ray opened the other for Mrs Bayer. Ray slipped into the drivers seat and handed his cover to Brad. 

“So, you are a Marine as well.” Mrs Bayer said as they set off. 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

Brad turned in his seat, “He serves as my Radio-Telegraph Operator.” 

Mrs Bayer hummed, “He is your right-hand man.” 

Brad nodded, “In effect, yes ma’am.” 

Mrs Bayer scoffed, “I used to bounce you on my knee Bradley Colbert, I will be Rivka, not ma’am nor Mrs Bayer. The same to you Yoshua.” 

“Yes ma’am.” Ray grinned. Mrs Bayer chuckled. 

* * *

  


Ray circled the hall’s car park until a space opened up near the doors. Rivka had protested, ‘I am more than capable of walking Yoshua’ and Ray’d repressed a grin. She sounded a lot like his grandma, all the way down to calling him by his first name; probably why he hadn’t corrected her. 

He jumped out to open her door for her and to offer his arm like he had before. She tutted at him even as she took it and Ray looked up to see Brad giving him a dopey looking smile. Something in his chest swelled and he smiled back. 

He led her down a short hallway into the hall where the reception was being held. It was a single large room with a medium-sized bar in one corner, several circular tables spread out around one half of the room, the top table having a white tablecloth instead of peach like the rest. Each table had six places with plates and cutler already in place, peach and white balloons floating above the tables attached to a decorative weight by ribbon. It was nothing like a reception in his trailer park. He guided Rivka to a table towards the edge, but away from the doors. 

“Where would you prefer to sit?” he asked when they got to the table he’d been aiming for. 

She patted his arm, “You seem to have an idea, so where do _you_ want me to sit?” 

Ray chuckled with slight embarrassment, “Am I that obvious?” 

Rivka chuckled, sitting gracefully in the chair Ray pulled back for her, “My husband used to choose his seats very carefully too. Not too close to the doors Rivka, have your back to a wall, the entrances and exits must always be in clear view, and so on.” 

“That’s good advice.” Ray said, taking the seat to her right, the one with the best sight line to the main doors. Brad slipped into the one next to him, his hand coming down on his knee automatically. Ray put his hand over it as Emma slipped into the seat next to Rivka. They watched the other guests move around to their seats. A middle-aged couple seemed to be making a beeline for them; the woman was dressed in a knee length grey-purple dress with three-quarter sleeves and a V neckline with small matching heels. Her hair was curled a little, but it hung freely. The man wore a dark grey suit with a matching grey-purple tie, his greying hair cut short on the sides. 

“My parents.” Brad said as Emma stood and rushed over to the woman. Ray swallowed and wiped his suddenly sweaty hands on his dress pants. 

“You both look wonderful!” Brad’s mother cooed as she pulled out of her hug with Emma. Brad squeezed his knee and stood, letting himself be pulled into a hug. In normal circumstances, Ray would have smirked at Brad's repressed grimace when his mother kissed his cheek. Instead, he felt his legs go to jelly as he stood, stepping out from behind his seat. Brad’s mother had pulled away and was straightening Brad’s collar when she spotted him. Ray resisted the urge to freeze and channelled all his nervous energy into a welcoming smile. 

“Joshua Ray Person, ma’am.” Ray said, offering his hand out. Brad’s mother tilted her head to the side but shook it. He could feel several pairs of eyes on him, so he steeled himself, turning to Brad’s father. 

“Mr Colbert sir.” 

Brad’s father nodded back. So far so good, Ray told himself, even though sweat was pooling in the small of his back. Neither parents were looking at him like he was a piece of trailer trash. Yet. 

Ray sat back down and watched Mr Colbert pull out the chair next to Emma for Mrs Colbert, leaving him to sit next to Brad. Ray almost slumped in his chair with relief when the bride’s mother started talking into a microphone, cutting off any opportunity for Brad’s parents to interrogate. Brad’s hand found his and threaded their fingers together. He glanced over and Brad mouthed, _relax_. Ray snorted softly and squeezed their joined hands. The bride’s mother passed the microphone to a younger looking man – the best man – and he started his speech. 

Ray took a deep breath: he knew he was overreacting, but he reasoned, he’d never been introduced to someone’s parents before. He had no idea what the fuck he was supposed to say or do. 

The best man’s speech was peppered with joke and funny commentary on the couple. Ray didn’t know either of them so most of the in-jokes went over his head, but there were enough normal jokes to keep him a little engaged. He would have been more if Brad’s hand hadn’t been a little higher than needed. He kept flicking his eyes across to him because he did _not_ need to get a boner in front of Brad's sister, his parents, and an elderly woman. He relaxed when Brad’s hand had to move so that he could clap as the best man was replaced by the maid of honour. She was followed by the father of the bride, who was very much the jovial, pride father. 

“I think I’m getting a cavity,” Ray whispered in Brad’s ear. Brad’s amused smirk was a thing of beauty, especially when it was aimed at him. Ray sat back in his chair with a satisfied grin. 

The speeches ended and then they were toasting the bride and groom with glasses of wine that'd been handed out. Ray took a sip and hid a grimace. Wine was his grandma’s drink first and while she’d passed down some of her love for it to his mom, it hadn’t got to him. It was heavily implied that he got his taste for Fireball from his father, which was probably why he avoided it like the plague. 

He pushed his glass to Brad, “I don’t drink blue state grape juice.” He whispered. 

Brad rolled his eyes, “No, you just drink shitty country piss water.” 

Before Ray could educate Brad on the _many_ merits of Budweiser, Emma cut in, “Are we getting food?” 

“And better drinks,” Ray said, taking the opportunity to get away from the table. Brad eyed him and Ray just shrugged, picking up his and Brad’s plates, “I’ll get you something.” 

“If there are jalapenos-” 

“Get a metric tonne, I know.” 

The buffet tables ran across the back wall with enough space to get to both sides. Ray lined up behind Emma and took a deep breath. She turned to him and gave him a sympathetic smile. 

“They’re not going to kill you.” 

“Well, when they find out I’m defiling their only son, I think they'll at least consider it.” 

Emma rolled her eyes, “They’ll like you. They had no problem with my last boyfriend, Brad was the one that scared him off.” 

Ray grinned, “Really? Brad's soft as marshmallow and as cuddy as a teddy bear.” 

Emma stared at him, “I’ll pay money for you to say that to his face.” 

Ray laughed and rocked on his feet, “Easy money.” 

The line inched along at a snail's pace, but for once Ray was glad it was taking forever: the more time he could waste, the less time he had to screw up. Emma opened her mouth to start a different conversation when her mouth snacked shut so quickly Ray heard her teeth click. 

“Hostiles inbound.” She said through gritted teeth. Ray licked his lips to stop a smirk spreading across his face. He felt a presence coming towards his shoulder, so he waited _just_ long enough for them to think he didn’t know they were there before turning abruptly. The man – Jamie – stopped and blinked but the woman – Jess – wasn’t deterred. 

“Emma!” she said warmly. 

“Jess.” Emma replied with noticeable bite. Ray had to press his lips together to not laugh. Oh, this was going to be good. Ray scanned the buffet table but there wasn’t any popcorn. Pity. 

“How have you been?” Jess tried again; her tone was just as warm. Ray had to give it to her, she was persistent: if Emma Colbert had been giving him that look and tone, he would have spun on his heels and fled to the opposite side of the room or maybe even the state. 

“Good, thank you.” Emma said curtly but not impolitely. Colbert were masters of passive aggression – he’d have to note that down somewhere. 

“Oh, that’s good, I’m so glad.” Jess said and it seemed like she met every word. Maybe she did. It was then that she noticed him, standing at Emma’s side. “Hello, I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Jess Miller.” 

“No, we haven’t,” the _but I’ve heard a lot about you_ went unsaid, “Ray Person.” 

“Emma’s boyfriend?” 

Ray laughed, “She’s way out of my league. No, I’m a friend of Brad’s actually.” He made sure to put a little emphasis on _Brad’s_ , just because he could. Jess’s smile didn’t falter but her eyes widened in surprise. 

“Brad bought a friend along?” 

“Yeah, I didn’t have anything else on and Brad needed a human shield, parents you know.” He made sure to leave a slight pause between _human shield_ and _parents_. Emma’s face was a serene mask, but her eyes sparkled with amusement. 

“Yeah, totally.” Ray turned to see the look at Brad’s ex best friend. He too looked far more comfortable than Ray would’ve expected in the presence of the sister of the friend he betrayed. Thankfully, the line shuffled forward, and the hostiles had to join the back of the cheque. Ray waited until they were out of hearing range to snort and turn to Emma, 

“Either they’re stone cold bitches or they're completely oblivious.” 

Emma sighed, “Personally I wish it was the first one, then I’d have an excuse to punch her and kick him where it hurts.” 

Ray whistled lowly, “Note to self, don’t piss off the sister.” 

Emma rolled her eyes, “I doubt you'll ever piss me off.” Ray rose an eyebrow and she carried on, “I never liked Jess or Jamie, even before she started dating Brad. I don’t really remember why – I think she must have babied me because I hate it when people do that.” 

Ray nodded along, “I used to be the same, but as I got older and especially in the Marine, I realised being underestimated is an advantage.” 

Emma hummed, “I can imagine.” They lapsed into a comfortable silence. 

He could think of many times when people hadn’t taken him seriously, from all the times teachers had assumed he cheated on tests to his mom’s last boyfriend, who’d thought he could hit Ray and get away with it. In a way, high school had prepared him for the Marines, teaching him how to trick people into ignoring him. Bravo had been the first time Ray’d felt seen, the guys poking and prodding at his defences, hazing the new guy. It’d taken him a little too long to realise that they weren’t doing it out of real hate or to push him down but to help him find his place and to acknowledge his weaknesses. It’d been Brad that’d opened his eyes, when he’d insulted Ray’s taste in beer before cutting into the assholes who’d been getting on his back with ice-cold fury. 

They finally reacted the buffet table and it was posh fucking selection but had some of the good shit. He picked up some of the better sandwiches – plainer ones for Brad, interesting ones for himself – and only picked up salad for Brad’s plate. Ray would rather take the teasing than eat rabbit food when he didn’t have to. He got some breadstick – extra because Brad always said he didn’t like them but would end up stealing his -, meat skewers and some of the tiny replicates of good food. They had chips and jalapenos, so he picked up extra for Brad and some good dip for himself. 

“You’ve done this before.” Emma whispered. 

Ray glanced up at her and paused awkwardly, “Well, when you live with a guy in a shit box on wheels for months, you learn everything down to how often he shits.” 

Emma snorted and reached over to the platter of meats, putting some one plate before putting some of the cheeses on the other. She noticed his tilted head and explained, “You can’t mix meat and dairy.” 

“Ah, right.” Ray said, reaching over put the meat on Brad’s plate and the cheese on his. Emma smiled with this look in her eye and Ray quickly turned to put some olives on Brad’s plate – Brad thought he was sly, ordering olives on his pizza before complaining that they’d got his order wrong. 

“You know, she never really cared.” Emma said as they started walking back to their table. Ray rose an eyebrow. “About the Jewish thing. Sure, she took a polite interest, but she never tried to learn Hebrew or separate her food.” Emma gave him a pointed look. 

“It’s important to Brad.” Ray could feel himself flushing, so he tried to save face, “He never shuts up about the Ancient Talmudic traditions he was brought up in.” 

Emma rose an eyebrow and smiled way too knowingly. They reached the table before she could tease him anymore. Ray wordlessly put Brad’s plate down in front of him, though he did snag some of the meat from his plate, carefully putting in on the opposite side of his plate to the cheese. 

“Poke’s having a barbecue next week,” Brad explained, taking some of Ray’s breadsticks just as Ray’d planned for. 

Mrs Colbert sighed, “But you will at least visit in the morning, just for a couple of hours.” 

Brad nodded, “Yes mother.” 

Mrs Colbert gave Brad a look Ray was familiar with – his mom always pulled it when he was being deliberately dense. Ray ate his food carefully, listening to Emma and Mrs Colbert guide the rest of the table into a conversation about the wedding and how nice the service was, how beautiful Michelle looked, what the food was like. 

“You should try some of the potato salad Brad.” 

Brad hummed and Mrs Colbert put a forkful on his plate. Ray made sure to swipe some of it when Mrs Colbert wasn’t looking and Brad smiled at him, his hand resting back on his thigh. In retribution, he dipped a breadstick in Ray’s cream cheese. Ray kicked him under the table. 

“So, Yoshua, tell me more about your home.” 

Ray blinked, his mouth still full of salmon sandwich. He swallowed, “My home?” 

Rivka tutted, “Yes, your home, you aren't from California, are you?” 

Ray nodded, “I’m from Missouri.” Rivka gave him a look and waved her hand and Ray glanced around, “When I’m not crashing with Brad, I live with my mom and grandma outside of Nevada, it’s a big-ish town in the south-western part of the state.” He did as much verbal gymnastics as he could to avoid saying ‘trailer park’. He wasn’t ashamed: he wore it as a badge of honour most of the time, daring other Marines to say shit about it, bringing it up as often as he could. This was different though because he could take the looks he’d get from other marines, but he couldn’t take them from Brad’s family. 

Rivka seemed satisfied with the answer and Ray relaxed as she asked about the difference between California and Missouri. That was much easier to answer and he quickly fell in step with her, debating the merits of the West Coast weather. She explained that she’d preferred the winters in Germany, but the summers were much better here. Emma jumped in with an anecdote about her trip to Canada and then Ray was debating the merits of field hockey vs ice hockey. 

There was the clinking of a knife on a wine glass and all the conversation stopped for the bride and groom to start their first dance. They did a basic waltz to some classical music and before long couples were joining them on the dance floor. 

A man around Ray’s age stepped up to their table and offered Emma his hand. Emma laughed and took it, chatting to him with a familiarity that told Ray he was a friend of hers. 

“You’re not going to scare him off?” Ray asked as Mr and Mrs Colbert made their way to the dance floor as well. 

“I have him in my sightline and I’ve already educated him on the possible outcome of any unwanted advances he might make.” 

“It will be a wonder if she ever marries,” Rivka commented, “with her brother scaring off her suitors.” 

Brad looked over Ray’s shoulder to her, “I would rather my sister be single than marry a spineless idiot.” 

“You should introduce her to some of the marines.” Ray threw in. As expected, Brad’s glare was sharp enough to cut glass. Ray threw his head to the side to grin up at him as innocently as he could. Brad’s glare thawed and he grinned back, his hand searching Ray's out under the table. 

The music picked up a little from the soft, classical music that'd played at the beginning as Ray collected two beers and a red wine for Rivka from the bar. The atmosphere of the room had calmed to good level, the music just loud enough for everyone to hear it but not so loud that Ray had to shout to talk to Rivka. The old woman was a fountain of stories about young Brad; apparently, she’d led the Jewish version of Sunday School, Hebrew School. 

“He was always more interested in the battles, Jericho and sieges.” 

Ray nodded with a grin, “I always like David and Goliath, probably because I was the smallest kid in the class.” 

Rivka waved her finger, “You can draw many lessons from it.” 

“I hope you aren’t sparing too many stories Mrs Bayer.” Brad said, reappearing with a third plate of food. He set it down in between them and Ray reached for the mini frittatas. 

There was a twinkle in her brown eyes, “I’ve just remembered the time when he was covered head to toe in paint.” 

Ray straightened up and leaned closer, “Oh, I've gotta hear this one.” 

They were interrupted before Rivka could start the story by a female voice calling, “Brad!” Ray turned slowly to watch Jess approach with Jamie on her elbow. He hadn’t got a good look at what they were wearing before, hadn’t really taken them in apart from them being Brad’s backstabbing friends. 

He wasn’t surprised that Jess was perfectly blonde along with clear hazel eyes. Her dress was a glossy forest green, two thin straps holding up loose bodice with a deep V neck, a thin waistband connecting a loose, floor length skirt. Ray’s eyes flicked over her minimal bust before going back up to her face. Her hair was curled into lazy ringlets, left loose. Not Ray’s usual type in girls but she _was_ stunning. Jamie was the average west coast pretty boy, tall enough to creating the perfect height difference, a muscle-for-show physique though not too much, grey-blue eyes and light brown hair. Not Ray’s type in guys either. They looked like a couple out of a Christmas commercial. 

“Jess, Jamie.” Brad said. Ray clenched his fist at the tone, at the hidden wistful pain it held. Brad probably didn’t even realise. 

Jamie pulled out the chair next to Brad and Jess slipped into it automatically, “It’s so good to see you.” She leant forward and hugged Brad. Jamie offered his hand and he and Brad did some sort of bro-shake. 

“Ray, this is Jess and Jamie.” 

“I’ve already had the pleasure.” Ray said, leaning back in his chair and stretching his arm out to hook it on the back of Brad’s chair. Brad gave him a look, _behave_. 

“I thought you were bringing a date?” Jamie asked. 

“What am I, chopped liver?” Ray joked. Brad rolled his eyes, but didn’t correct him. Jamie didn’t seem to know what to say to that; Ray took immense pleasure out of it. 

“I’ve never met any of Brad’s marine friends before.” Ray resisted the urge to raise a pointed eyebrow, like well, that’s what happens when you dump a guy. Barely. 

“Well, we don’t crawl out of our dens very often, much less in the daylight.” 

Brad kicked him under the table, “That may be your experience Ray, but I can attest to the fact that most of our marine brothers are human and not a goat hybrid.” 

“Goats don’t live in dens.” Ray pointed out. 

“Are you enjoying the party?” Brad asked them, quite awkwardly. It’s easy to forget that Brad was shy when he was trash talking or giving orders. 

“Yes, the food is very good.” Jamie said. 

“But, the music could be better.” Jess added. Brad nodded along as they started to discuss the wedding music they’d had. Ray decided he better analyse what the fuck was going on in his chest. Anger, because Jess'd had Brad before him and hurt him deeply; strangely thankful because this was the woman Brad was gonna marry, and if they had, he and Brad wouldn’t have even been a thought. 

Ray pushed the thoughts away and sat back to observe and gather intel. It was easy to pick up the chemistry between Jess and Jamie, the two of them controlling the conversation. Brad chipped in sometime, but it was clear that he was letting them carry the conversation. Ray knew he was getting a biased view and couldn’t know for sure if this was what it was like when they were kids. He could see it being that way though. He wandered what'd got Jess to date Brad instead of Jamie; his running theory was that Jamie’d been a scrawny kid whereas Brad, with decent growth spurts and lots of exercise, had created a desirable image for a pretty girl’s boyfriend. 

Several years of personal growth and new, differing goals would’ve strained their relationship to point that Jamie – having grown into his look, similar goals and being right there – would've looked to be the better fit. Add their obvious natural chemistry and the fact that Jess seemed like the glass half empty kinda person and Brad was a realist – not the best combination – whereas Jamie was an optimist, and you had a recipe for a split. 

He wandered if she’d waited until she’d written the Dear John, or if that’d been an afterthought. Fuck, I’m being an asshole, Ray thought, pulling himself out of his musing to apply himself as a human shield. 

“So, how do you guys know Michelle?” He asked in a lull in the conversation. Jess brightened and jumped to explain how they’d been to school together and kept in communication. Jamie engaged Brad in a talk about basketball – even though football was the sport Brad knew best, after surfing. Ray made sure to include Rivka, who was looking at him with an almost calculating look on her face. 

The conversation carried on long enough for Emma to return from her dancing session, panting but grinning ear to ear. Ray escaped to get her a drink of water, which she downed half of before she realised Jess and Jamie were at the table and reeled herself in. 

Jess and Jamie disappeared off to the dance floor when a slow song came on. Brad visibly deflated and Ray found himself pulling Brad’s hand into his stomach, pressing the whole of his right leg against Brad’s significantly longer left leg. Brad glanced across to him and stared, the soft sadness of a missed opportunity reseeding until he was looking at him with a heavy fondness. Ray left himself smile – only a little quirk of his lips. If he’d been brave or reckless or that soppy, he would’ve brought Brad’s hand up to kiss his knuckles. 

“Are either of you going to dance with me?” Emma asked, breaking their peaceful silence. 

Ray grinned as the song in the background sped up and let go of Brad’s hand to stand. He pushed his chair in to offer her his hand. “May I have this dance mademoiselle? With brother’s permission of course.” 

Brad waved them off, “Just don’t broken anything.” 

Ray snorted and Emma took his hand, the both of them making their way into a clear space on the dance floor. 

* * *

  


Brad watched Ray and Emma slot onto the dance floor. They worked well together, Ray spinning Emma around, Emma taking gracefully steps so that they were carefully controlled. 

“He is a wonderful dancer.” Mrs Bayer commented as other guests quickly caught on and started to join them as Ray started off a simple waltz. 

“He is.” Brad said with a little surprise. He tried to think back to a time he’d seen Ray dance properly other than group dances or uncoordinated flailing. Brad thought of the Marine Corps Birthday Ball – which would've been the only place where Ray would’ve danced like that – but Ray hadn’t stepped a foot on the dance floor. Now however, he cut a clean figure in his dress blues, his arms and back perfectly straight as he led Emma in a simple waltz, their steps perfectly controlled as they moved in a box before rotating and spin slowly around the dance floor. 

Brad readjusted how he was sitting, spread his legs just a little: there was something in the confidence way Ray moved and the close cut of his dress blues emphasising his shoulders, waist and legs in a way they usually weren’t. Ray wore mostly baggy clothes – Brad didn’t try and reclaim any of the items Ray’d stolen from their closet, even when they looked ridiculous big on him – with the exception of a few pairs of jeans and one black Henley. His freshly cut hair was shorter on the sides, though he’d kept some of the length on top, giving him neat but young look. Brad just knew he’d kept the length for him, so that he could bury his hands into it. He leant forward a little, looking away from Ray before something awkward happened. 

Instead he watched his parents sway towards the outskirts and some of the other people he recognised. When he was sure he wasn’t going to embarrass himself, he stood to offer his hand to Mrs Bayer. She laughed but took it and he led her down to the dance floor, slotting in just behind Ray and Emma. He wasn’t nearly as confident in the waltz – and Mrs Bayer had been old when he’d been in Hebrew School – so he led her in a box step. She was much shorter than Ray, only coming to his mid chest. 

“I like him. You should keep him around.” Mrs Bayer said. 

Brad nodded, “I’ll try to.” 

Soon after, Ray and Emma came a little closer, slowing their pace to match Brad’s. 

“Swap you?” Ray asked with a bright grin. Brad swallowed – Ray's dimples were deep, and his cheeks flushed, hair rustled but not messy. He felt a finger prod his side and he quickly replied, “Sure.” 

Ray spun Emma out and reeling Mrs Bayer in, their heights much more suitable for dancing. Brad caught Emma and positioned her so that they could carry on with the box step he’d been doing. 

“Do you know the Foxtrot?” Mrs Bayer asked and Ray grinned and changed their direction before moving forward in two gracefully steps. Mrs Bayer laughed, and they were gone, disappearing into the crowd slightly faster that Brad would have thought. 

“How are you doing?” Emma whispered, even though the music was loud enough for them to talk normally. 

He sighed, but answered honestly, “I might not sure what to do.” 

Emma nodded, “If it makes any difference, I think you should tell them. You obviously love him; more than I’ve seen you love anyone. You can’t decide how they’re going to react, but you can control when and how you tell them. It’s better that it’s on your terms and they know that you’re serious from the start.” 

He glanced across and saw Ray, who gently dipped Mrs Bayer with a wide grin, the two of them crumpling with laughter when he bought her back up. His chest tightened and he made his decision. Like a light switch, as soon as he said to himself, tell them, it was all he wanted to do. He gave Emma an apologetic look before breaking off from her to seek Ray out. They’d left the dance floor, Mrs Bayer sitting in a free chair, Ray leaning his ass against the table, making himself look taller, all spread out like that. 

“Hey Brad.” Ray said, his whole body turning to him. His eyes looked darker – they’d turned off the overhead lights, letting the side light bathe the hall in a warm glow – and soft, the corners crinkled like he knew exactly what Brad was thinking. 

“I'm going back to the table.” Mrs Bayer said. Brad hadn’t realised that they’d been staring at each other. Emma wandered over, looking at them with a mischievous, knowing expression. Brad narrowed his eyebrows with annoyance but she just smiled sweetly. Just as they were starting to move, a gaggle of Emma’s friends appeared and started squealing about her dress and her hair, loud enough for Brad to wince. He and Ray shared a look as Emma was swallowed by the group before being spit out when the gaggle realised that Brad and Ray were there. 

“And who are these handsome men?” Olivia – one of the bridesmaids - asked. 

Emma laughed, “Well, this is my brother, Brad and his –” Brad moved his head half an inch to the side and Emma continued smoothly, “friend from the marines, Ray.” 

“Hi!” Several of them said at once, one or two eyeing them like meat. 

Brad and Ray nodded their heads, “Ladies.” Brad could almost feel the internal swoons when Ray drew out his accent and made it smooth like whiskey. Brad gave him a look and Ray just grinned with his eyes. They made small talk for a little while, even second grating on Brad’s slowly rising nerves. His parents were already back at the table and it wouldn’t be long before someone joined them to chat. Emma noticed and carefully moved the attention away from Ray, who’d been fielding the usual questions. 

“Boys, would you help me to the table?” Mrs Bayer said, perfectly timed to give them an out. Brad nodded and the three of them made their way back to the table, leaving Emma with her friends. She rose an eyebrow and flicked her thumb up and Brad nodded: he could do this with Ray by his side. 

Thankfully, his parents were still alone and apart from Mrs Bayer, this was going to be their best chance. Ray ushered Mrs Bayer into her seat, offering to get her a glass of water which she declined. Almost immediately, Mrs Bayer was getting up to go and talk to her ‘bosom friend’ Aria at the next table. He spied the old woman and she turned to give him a wink. 

“She knows?” Ray whispered with faint awe. 

Brad hummed, “It would seem so.” 

“What are you boys whispering about?” His mother asked, turning her attention to them. Brad swallowed and Ray’s hand found his under the table, grasping it tightly. 

“Mom, Dad, I have something to tell you.” 

One of his mother’s eyebrows rose, “Oh, what dear?” Brad froze then, under the combined gazes of both his parents. I should have thought this through, he thought dimly, suddenly aware that he didn’t even know which topic to go with first. He looked to Ray, who gave him a soft smile before pulling their joined hands up onto the table, in clear view. Ray’s hand almost looked delicate in his, his tanned skin a couple of shades darker than Brad’s own – he’d been too busy burning to tan that much – his long thin fingers curling around Brad’s slightly thicker ones. Brad flicked his eyes up to his parent’s face and tried not to read into his mother’s wide eyes. 

“Mr Colbert, Mrs Colbert,” Ray started, cutting into the silence that had descended onto the table, “I know you don’t know me at all, but I can promise you right now and swear it on whatever holy book you prefer, that I care for your son more than I have anyone else in my life and that I want to stay by his side for however long he’ll let me.” Brad couldn’t stop himself from staring at Ray with wonder. He’d been shaking earlier, barely able to say two words to his mother. Now, he wore a determined but wary expression as he faced them head on. 

Brad looked back to his parents; his mother’s eyebrows were still raised but the shock was disappearing and being replace with a look of surprise, the same as the day he'd been selected for Recon. He looked across to his father’s contemplating look, neither happy nor anger. He took a breath and squeezed Ray’s hand. 

“I know this isn't what you wanted for me, but I’m happy, for the first time in a long time and Ray is the reason why.” 

His mother leaned forward and they both tensed, but she only laid her hands on top of theirs, squeezing gently, “Brad all I ever wanted for you is happiness.” He blinked – he was not going to cry at another fucking wedding, though for a completely different reason this time – and turned to his father. He smiled and put his hand on Brad’s shoulder. “I’m sorry my son, that we ever made you think we wouldn’t accept you.” His mother nodded furiously, enough that her hair bobbed. 

Ray let out a long breath and his hand relaxed in Brad’s. Brad turned to him - his mouth hurt it was spread so wide - and wished he could kiss him, but the darkness could only conceal some things. Ray bumped his knee against his and gave him a relieved smile. 

“Have you told them?” Brad didn’t jump but his parents did. 

He levelled Emma with an unimpressed look, “Well if I hadn’t, you would have just made this very difficult.” Emma huffed and rolled her eyes before looking down at their joined hands, their mother's hand still on top and their father’s hand pressed against his shoulder. She beamed, kneeling in the space between Brad and Ray’s chairs to wrap her arms around them both, squealing happily. 

“You knew?” His mother asked as they all relaxed back into their chairs. Brad moved their hands back under the safety of the table but kept them joined. 

Emma nodded, “Brad told me a couple of weeks ago at dinner.” She gave their mother an apologetic look, “I wanted Brad to tell you something himself for once.” 

“He uses you as a walkie talkie too?” Ray teased. Brad rolled his eyes. 

“I thought you would be more observant Judith.” Brad looked across to see Mrs Bayer taking the seat next to his mother. She gave them a modest smile, “Congratulation Bradley, Yoshua is a good man.” 

Brad smiled as Ray ducked his head, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand in embarrassment. Emma stood and flopped into the chair next to Ray, brushing a stray piece of hair behind her ear. 

“So, I saw some piece of wood piled in your living room, what are they for?” Emma asked, moving them swiftly on. 

“We were thinking about putting a raised bed on the decking.” Brad explained, giving her a grateful smile. 

Ray jumped in, “I’ll be surprised if anything survives.” 

Brad smirked, “That’s what I have you for.” 

“Hey, I ain’t your gardener, not unless you’re paying me.” 

His mother rose an eyebrow, “Are you interested in gardening, Josh?” 

Ray froze and fumbled, “I – uh – did a little with my grandma.” 

Brad snorted, “Doesn’t your grandmother sell the flowers she grows?” 

Ray shrugged, “To some of the local flower shops, sure.” 

“She grew and made all the bouquets at –” 

“Ndidi’s wedding yeah, she did.” 

His mother’s eyes brightened, and she leant forward, “I could never get any of these into gardening. What sort of flowers does she grow?” 

Brad bumped his knee against Ray’s thigh and Ray took a breath before leaning forward to explain that one of his friends, Ndidi – who’d he'd met on his last trip to Missouri – had asked his grandmother to grow some of Orchids and Calla Lilies for her wedding if she could. His grandma had taken it as a challenge and grew Sunflowers, Hibiscus and Purple Heart as well. Brad sat back as his mother started asking about the fertilisers and soil she used because her Orchids always seemed to die. Ray relaxed as the conversation progressed to Ndidi’s wedding – where Ray’d been an honorary bridesmaid – and that she was now expecting. They had things to iron out: he noticed that Ray went to great lengths to avoid saying ‘trailer park’, but that would come with time. His parents wouldn’t care even if Ray hadn’t been so important to him. 

He leant back in his chair and sipped what was left of his beer. Out of the corner of his eyes, he spotted Jess and Jamie. Emma had been frosty with them, but that was her decision. Ray hadn’t seemed inclined to talk to them much either. He was grateful that Ray had stayed, sitting just by his side, ready to jump in, but trusting him to make his own decision when it came to them. 

They would always been a sore point, but it felt more like a scar than an open wound. He traced the curve of Ray’s thumb as he described vividly, the lay out of the allotment they ran. He tuned back out and into the music playing in the background. He snorted. 

_Take my hand,_  
_Take my whole life too,_  
_For I can’t stop falling in love with you._

**Author's Note:**

> If there are mistakes with any of the Jewish references, please correct me: I'd rather learn than carry on being wrong.


End file.
